


The Ghost of Her

by tabbycat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Ghosts, Lavender Brown’s Ghost, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbycat/pseuds/tabbycat
Summary: Lavender chose to stay. She chooses to remember. She chooses to be what’s left.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	The Ghost of Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaraudingManaged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/gifts).



It was one year since the Final Battle, the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort’s Last Dance, or whatever you wanted to call the day that Lavender Brown had died.

She didn’t regret it. Her death, that was. She had done what she thought was right, and, anyway, she couldn’t have lived knowing she hadn’t joined the fight, so death it was. Besides, somebody had to die, and there was no reason it shouldn't have been her over anyone else. She’d have chosen a different death, if she could have. Mauled by Fenrir Greyback, that was nobody’s idea of fun. Still, such was life. Or in her case, death.

Maybe she was overthinking it. It was possible she was overthinking it, anyway.

And, anyway, Lavender had chosen to remain. Death had seemed rather final, and she’d not seen all that much of life. She’d never tried to. She had always been content, with her family and her little life in Gryffindor Tower, with her best friend Parvati and her relationship with Ron, such as it had been. With fighting the Carrows, then, she supposed. That had seemed the most important thing she could do, that last year she’d actually been alive, and she’d not seen much of anything else. 

One year on, she wasn’t really sure what she’d seen. The world and his dog seemed to have descended on Hogwarts over the previous summer, all of them looking for something to do, if she was being charitable, or a share of the glory of defeating You-Know-Who, if she wasn’t. They’d left by the start of term. And then it’d been just the school; the students, a mixture of defiant, traumatised, somehow both quieter and louder than they’d been before so many had been killed, the teachers, much the same, and the ghosts. Her. And Lavender did what she could to help, but it never quite seemed enough.

They’d descended back on Hogwarts for the anniversary, all of the people who’d shown up before. Ministers for this and that, Heads of Departments, journalists. Lavender refused Skeeter her photograph. She refused them all her photograph, save for the Quibbler. This wasn’t a media event.

She floated off round the castle in search of something, anything, more useful than the Daily Prophet.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, spotting a familiar head of hair well away from the crowds slowly forming on the grounds. The somehow much older looking Harry Potter swivelled, and Lavender could see him reach for his wand in the pocket of his robes before his brain adjusted and registered who it was. He’d had a hard life, reasoned Lavender. And as an Auror now, well, it was unsurprising, really, that he’d reacted like that.

“Hello, Lavender,” he said. “How are you?”  
“Aside from dead, you mean?” she asked, and couldn’t help but laugh as his eyebrows shot up and he stammered for something to say to that. “Don’t worry,” she said, kindly, “I don’t mind that I’m dead.”

“How can you not mind that you’re dead?” he asked.

“It happened,” she said, simply. “There’s nothing much I can do about it. And didn’t you die, too? And you were okay about that.”

“That’s different,” said Harry. “I was dying because it was the only way. I died to save everyone.”

“Yeah,” said Lavender. “And some of the rest of us felt like that, too. I dunno. You probably thought I was just a gossipy girl at school, who went a bit strange about Ron. I cared about the outcome of that battle, Harry, I wanted Voldemort dead too.”

“I’ve never heard you say his name before.”

“What can he do to me now? Kill me?”

Harry laughed at that, the worried look in his eyes disappearing. 

“Are you here for the memorial?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a seat on a bench. Lavender sat beside him. Sitting was different as a ghost, and it took concentration not to fall through the bench but to make sure she made contact with it. “I’m here a bit early, though. I wanted to… I wanted a minute with it all before I have to stand up and be the great Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Saved Us All.”

“It must be hard,” said Lavender. 

“Sometimes I think it would be easier to have stayed dead,” he replied. “I’m sorry. That’s really insensitive, I should have remembered who I was talking to…”

“No,” said Lavender. “I get it. I’ve been here for the last year, and I’ve seen what it has been like for survivors. It’s been harder for them than it is for me. I’m dead. Nothing can hurt me now. But they, the students here have to walk past the places they saw friends killed, where they narrowly escaped death themselves, and they have to get on with and go to Herbology or whatever. Professor McGonagall can’t break down when she sees the patch where three of her students were killed, because she’s got an important meeting with the governors and if she looks like she’s having a breakdown she’ll be out of a job. Everyone here had a family or a friend who died, whether here or before that, and they’ve suddenly got to adjust to a life without them. I’ve got it easy, Harry.”

“What made you decide to come back? As a ghost, I mean.”

“I thought I could help, at least a little bit. You know. I saw what it was like that night, and if people want someone to come and talk to about it, well, I don’t have to be anywhere else, do I? And also,” she said, “one day everyone who remembers it will be gone, and I thought somebody should. For those that were lost, and for those who lost someone. I’m giving a speech today, actually. On behalf of the deceased.”

“That…” his eyes were teary, “that is really nice, Lavender. I think it’s brave, too.”

“Everyone here was brave,” she said. “Come on. The dignitaries will be arriving soon.” She escorted him onwards, back to the crowds. It was the least she could do.

—-

It was two years since the final battle, and today there was no official memorial. Just a handful of people, closest family of those who’d died, close friends, no press. Minerva, as Lavender had been firmly instructed to refer to Professor McGonagall, spoke, and Harry, and then, more surprisingly, Ron. He clutched Hermione’s hand as he spoke, and Lavender was forced to admit that they did sort of work together, after all.

Lavender hung around the back. A service for the dead was a service for her, she supposed, but that wasn’t why she was here. She was the only one who’d chosen to come back, after all. She was here for all of them.

“Hi,” Harry said, as he, much to Lavender’s surprise, came around to see her at the end of the service. “How are things with you?”

“Much the same as ever,” she replied. “Less students are having breakdowns this year. I suppose most of the worst affected ones, you know, Hermione, and Ginny, Luna Lovegood and Neville, and all the rest, they’ve gone. Only a few of the students who are here now fought. Not that any of them were supposed to have.”

“Colin Creevey,” said Harry, although of course he was not here, his was one of the names on the obelisk they’d all just gathered around.

“Yes,” said Lavender. “How are you getting on?”

“Well, I’ve lasted eighteen months as an Auror, including training, and nobody’s tried to kill me,” he said. “Who’d have thought that being a dark-wizard catcher was less dangerous than studying at a school?”

Lavender laughed. “For you, perhaps,” she said. “School was boring for most of us. I used to want a bit of excitement. Did you know, I used to envy Hermione a bit? Getting to run round with you and Ron having all those adventures while Parvati and I sat on the sidelines? I suppose Gryffindors don’t take well to others getting the adventure. I know you didn’t want it, though,” she said, seeing the look on his face.”

“No, I didn’t,” he replied, with vehemence. “But perhaps I would have if it had been Neville. Did you know that?” he asked. “It could have been Neville if Voldemort had chosen differently.”

“Life is all just a series of choices, when it comes down to it. I don’t believe in Divination any more, not really.”

“I’m still not sure if I do,” he said. “I mean, a prophecy controlled my life for years, whether I believed in it for not.”

“It’s up to you now, really, isn’t it? You don’t have to believe in anything you don’t want to.”

—-

It was five years since the final battle at Hogwarts. Lavender had now seen out almost all of the students who had attended Hogwarts during that year with the Carrows. The services had stopped. Now, the castle was quiet, normal, as if nothing had ever happened here five years previously. No physical markers, apart from the official memorial, were left of the fighting, the castle scrubbed clean of the reminders. The new students, the younger ones, bustled across the places people had died without knowing it. Lavender wondered if it was better that way. The castle should have a chance to change.

But Lavender knew them all. And even though there was nothing official, nothing planned, she wandered from place to place, anyway. Her own, quiet, memorial. Every so often, she was interrupted by students, older ones in the main, who knew the significance of the date and had a question, or something they wanted to remind her of.

“I’ll remember,” she promised them. “We have to.”

Five years ago she’d died, and, finally, she felt like the castle could move on, just a little bit.

—-

It was eleven years since the final battle at Hogwarts, and Lavender had a very important job to do today.

“Hello, Teddy,” she said, greeting the tiny eleven-year-old boy that Harry was leading across the grass towards her favourite haunt in one of the courtyards. 

“Er, hello, Lavender,” he said, peeking out from under a mop of sandy-brown hair. “Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand, all adorable and serious, and she shook it in the best way that a ghost could.

“Thanks for doing this,” said Harry. 

“No problem at all,” said Lavender. “It’s sort of become my job. Final Battle tour guide, that’s me. Now, little lad, Harry says you’re starting here in September. What house do you plan to be in?”

“Well,” said Teddy. “My dad was a Gryffindor, and my mum was a Hufflepuff. Grandad was a Ravenclaw, and Granny was a Slytherin. I don’t much fancy Ravenclaw. And Granny is my second favourite person ever, but I still don’t know if I want to be in Slytherin. I haven’t decided, I don’t think.”

“The Sorting Hat knows best,” said Lavender. “Who is your favourite person ever?”

“Harry,” said Teddy Lupin, without missing a beat. “I sometimes think I should say my mum and my dad, but I don’t know them, so Harry and Granny say it’s okay not to. So does Ginny. My third favourite person is Victoire Weasley, and my fourth is Auntie Hermione.”

“I used to share a room at Hogwarts with your Auntie Hermione.”

“Really?” Teddy’s face lit up. “And Uncle Ron says you were his girlfriend for a while?”

“Yep,” said Lavender. 

“You look a lot younger than them, though,” said Teddy. He gave her an appraising sort of look. “Uncle Ron is a little bit bald and everything. He’s ancient.”

“Well,” said Lavender, choosing not to giggle at the idea of a balding Ron Weasley. “Ghosts don’t age. I’m the same age I was when I died, and I always will be.”

“And you died the same day my mum and dad did, didn’t you? Can you show me where? Harry says you can show me the memorial before the big event later today.”

“Teddy,” said Harry. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” said the boy.

“It’s okay, Harry,” said Lavender. “Lots of people need to visit the places where they lost people in order to understand, and some people will never want to go there again. Teddy’s brave, aren’t you?”

“I think so,” said Teddy. “I don’t know if I’m Gryffindor brave, though.”

“There’s bravery in everyone,” said Lavender. “Gryffindor brave or other sorts of brave. Even Slytherin brave.”

“Like Granny,” said Teddy. “She’s brave.”

“Thank you for doing that,” said Harry, afterwards, when Teddy had been dispatched back off to his Granny and the service was over.

“It’s no problem,” said Lavender. “I’m not sure what I’m doing these days, anyway. All the students that were here, you know, then, are gone, except for Neville, and he’s back as a teacher. We have nice talks, you know. It’s nice to have someone else around who knows what happened that year. Who remembers. And there’s Minerva, of course, and some of the other teachers. Although almost all of them are new, these days.”

“There’s going to be more like Teddy, coming through the school,” said Harry. “More war orphans, and those who lost a family member in the battle.” They sat at the base of the obelisk, with all the names inscribed on there. Lavender knew them all by heart. She suspected Harry did too.

Teddy’s father, Remus Lupin, was right near the top, below only three names, with the words ‘Order of Merlin, First Class’ alongside. They’d never have awarded him that alive. Below his was that of Teddy's mother, Nymphadora Tonks, and Fred Weasley, Aurora Sinistra, Severus Snape, and all the rest. Her own name was on there, too. Lavender usually, honestly, tried not to look at that one. She knew she was dead.

“We’ve had a lot of those already," said Lavender. She pointed up at a name. “Sally Hestherdown. She left behind two children, the youngest started Hogwarts two years ago. And Peter Button. He had four, his youngest is in first year now. They come and find me, sometimes.”

“Well there you are," said Harry. “You do have a job.”

“I hope I’m helping,” said Lavender. “I always wanted to help people. I thought maybe I'd be a Healer.”

“This is Healing of sorts, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

“You’re doing a good job,” said Harry. He’d been refusing to make eye contact with her since before Teddy left, but now he turned his head towards her just enough to see that, as she suspected, he was fairly close to crying. Honestly, Lavender felt like doing the same. 

“So are you,” she said. “It’s alright to cry, you know. Even after so long.”

“I miss them,” he admitted. “I miss them all.”

Ghosts aren’t much use at hugging, so it was all that Lavender could do to be there as he cried.

—-

It was a day of no remark at all, somewhere between ninety seven years since the final battle and ninety eight years. Lavender was floating around the Astronomy Tower, as she sometimes liked to, when there were footsteps behind her.

“Hi, Lavender,” said Harry. He looked much older than the last time she had seen him, his hair white and wispy. His face showed every year of his life in its lines. And he was sad, so very sad.

“Hi, Harry,” she said. “You usually only come on the anniversary.”

“Ron died,” he said, and within a second he was crying. “I thought you might like to know.”

“Thank you,” she said, because there wasn’t much else to say to that. “You must miss him.”

“He’s just been there for everything, you know?” whispered Harry. “Everything that mattered. From the Hogwarts Express, we worked together, our children and grandchildren grew up together, we have great-grandkids and great-great grandkids, and we were all still friends. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and now there’s just Harry and Hermione. It’s not right, Lavender.” He stopped, and he looked at her, as if deciding how much to say. “I always assumed that I would die before him. Chosen one, and all. Is that arrogant?”

“No. Not really. It must be difficult.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did, it was in a whisper, a quiet voice that carried only as far as Lavender herself. 

“How do you do it? How do you keep on doing this, going on, without them?” 

“One day at a time,” she said. “One day, and then the next. There’s more good in living than not, isn’t there?”

—-

A hundred years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter didn’t turn up at all. 

He always had, he’d always come back, and he’d always found Lavender. Some years, he talked to the teachers and the students, offering memories or advice or just words. He’d done speeches on very good years, informal chats on the okay ones. Other years, he just found Lavender. He had his route; Remus Lupin’s spot, Tonks’ spot, the boathouse where Severus Snape died, Dumbledore’s tomb. He brought Hermione, Ginny, or Teddy, his children, Ron’s children, or he came alone. More and more, he came alone.

Teddy Lupin came, himself an old man.

“Do you remember when you showed me around? he asked, approaching Lavender without an introduction. “Before I started here.”

“Of course.”

Lavender doesn’t remember everyone, not any more. How could she? She remembers Teddy, though, and hundreds of faces and names, even if she can’t always match them. Fred Weasley the second, asking questions about his uncle and namesake that Lavender enjoyed answering. Elphias Carrow, son of Amycus, wondering if he would be blamed for what his father had done.Dennis Creevey, then his son, then his grandson, asking about Colin in turn.

“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, looking at the ground in the way Harry always did, “that Harry’s died. Thought you’d want to know. I know he always came to see you, today.”

Ghosts can’t cry, but Lavender wanted to anyway.

“Thanks,” she said. 

It was going to happen sooner or later, Lavender reminded herself. Harry wouldn’t ever have wanted to live forever, and he’d never choose what she had. That didn’t make it better.

—-

It was a hundred and three years since the final battle, and Lavender Brown hadn’t seen anyone she had known when she was alive for a few years. It was painful, yes, but it was what she had signed up for.

“Miss Brown?” asked a small voice, clad in a too-big Hogwarts uniform.

“Hello,” she said, “and please call me Lavender.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you all year,” said the little voice, “but I’m not very brave.”

“Everyone has bravery in them,” said Lavender. “What’s your name?”

“Holly,” she replied. “Holly Potter. I was wondering, can you tell me about my great-great-grandfather? Someone told me you went to Hogwarts with him, and you fought Voldemort with him. That was today, wasn’t it, a very long time ago? The second of May?”

“I can,” said Lavender, and she began Harry’s story. She had a purpose. She knew why she had continued here.


End file.
